The recreant knight, busy with his new love dream, scarcely wasted a thought on Roma. He replied to her letters, thanking her for the flowers and her kindly sentiments, assuring her that he bore no malice, and forgave her for her folly; but he added unequivocally that his fancy for her was dead, and could never be resurrected.
"His fancy! He can call it a fancy now!" the girl moaned bitterly, and in that moment she tasted, for the first time, the bitterness of a cruel defeat, where she had been so confident of success.
She could not realize that he loved her no more, that the fancy she had so carefully cultivated was dead so soon! The pain and humiliation were most bitter. She rued in dust and ashes her hasty severance of her engagement.
Added to the bitterness of losing his love was the pain of having him vote against her at the Beauty Show.
"He will be sure to do so out of pure spite, even if he thought me the most beautiful of all!" she thought bitterly. "Oh, I wonder for whom he will cast his vote! How I should hate her if I knew! I—I could trample her pretty face beneath my feet!"
In desperation she resolved to cultivate the acquaintance of the artist, Malcolm Dean. He was to be one of the judges, she knew. Perhaps she could win him over to her side.
Gradually she took heart of hope again.
It could not be possible Jesse's heart had turned against her so suddenly. No, no! When they met again she would be able to draw him back again.
She had heard that he was going to be present at the Beauty Show. She would wear her new rubies and her most becoming gown for his eyes.